Book of Time
by The6thAnon
Summary: Tenna (10) and Lev (11) go to rival wizarding schools, each vying for the position of The Doctor of their counsels. It's not a normal school year—witches show themselves, rebellion sparks, and two groups of students find themselves caught up in a legend. Only the true Doctor will be able to open the Book of Time and learn its secrets-but who? 10/Rose, Amy/Rory, and a few surprises.
1. The Oncoming Storm

The black clouds thundered, crashing and echoing like the pots and pans of the school kitchens. The common room was nearly empty. Two stragglers sat on opposite sides of the couch by the fire, but most of the students had gone to their rooms to study or dream of passing their next test.

"Hey ya, Rose." Her favorite voice pulled her from the view. Soft, warm, melodic—listening to Tenna warmed her up like a cup of tea from The Potioneer's. "Ready for tomorrow?"

She snapped away from the window.

"Almost forgot! Assignments!" She bit her thumbnail. "We get our classes tomorrow. Oh, I hope—" She looked into his eyes then, searching the brown for a sliver of worry that mirrored her own. "Every year _someone _gets kicked out because they had some dirt on them. That won't be us, will it?"

"Of course not. We've done so well, and our families are pure enough." He put an arm around her shoulders. "And look at you, top marks in spellcasting. Well done." She smiled a full smile for him, warmth framed by messy pink lipstick.

_Just keep talking_, Rose thought to herself. _I'll forget we were ever in danger at all. _

"I cannot be_lieve_ Jack's gonna be a history major," she said, changing the subject to happier matters. "He could hold fireballs in his hands and he's looking at old books." A flicker of light reflected against the glass and she looked out the window again.

"Nothing wrong with old books!" Tenna replied, a little defensive. "I love old books. Besides, he'd claim he's al_read_y got balls of fire."

"Ugh, shut _up_." Rose elbowed him. "You boys and your jokes." Tenna's demeanor softened, the curve of his shoulders relaxing.

"Thank you."

"'Course. But seriously. History or…fire!" Rose pushed her hands against the glass. "And wind, and ice, and—" She posed before him, pretending to strike him down. "It'll be great!" She bounced from the windowsill and into his arms. "Besides, I get to copy off of you if I want."

"Hey! No copying." He pulled away from her and looked into her eyes, a stern crease turning down the corners of his mouth. "You're good enough to make it on your own." He slipped away from the window and gave her a half wave. "I'm heading to bed. 'Night, Rosie."

"Sleep well, Ten-Ten. Don't let the thunderbugs bite." The lightning flashed, a crack following as if to illustrate her point. Rose sensed that something watched her from behind the curtain of rain, but she couldn't hold her attention for long. Assignments were tomorrow! In just twelve hours, they'd know who would be competing to be the next Doctor.

* * *

"Amy?" Rory lay on his back by the fire, curled like an oversized cat. "Shouldn't we be getting to bed now?"

"No!" She pushed her hands into her jacket pockets. "I saved something for us from dinner. Had to wait until those little entry students were gone."

"Hey, that wasn't us too long ago."

"Whatever. They're not getting our chocolate."

"You nabbed _chocolate_?" Rory was upright in an instant.

"Hell yeah. Took it right from a freshie's backpack." She took a bite and snapped the bar in half. Rory paused.

"You had to steal it, didn't you?"

"Shush! Just eat your chocolate. This one's mint. Your favorite." She shook it an inch from his face, and Rory let a smile take over the reprimands. Maybe she was a little unruly—but she was still his Amy, caring and funny and ready to take on the world. She leaned her head on his shoulder. Just as she was settling in, the fire went out. She sighed and slumped into Rory's lap.

"Someone needs to relight the fire." She pulled Rory up, her mouth twisted mid-bite. "But it's not gonna be us. You know what could be us?" She leaned into Rory's face until their noses touched. "The next Doctor!"

"Well, not me, actually," Rory admitted. "I applied for arts."

"Arts! Huh. Suits you," she said, her hand on her chin. "Well _I _checked off enchantment, so I've still got a shot."

"Yeah," Rory said quietly. He kissed her on the nose. "Wherever you end up, I'm sure you'll be great."

"Aw! You too," she added, finishing off the last of her chocolate. "Yawn. I'm sleepy. Finally. See you tomorrow!" Rory sat back down and leaned against the foot of the armchair. He fiddled with the candy wrapper for a moment. _Amy. My Amy as The Doctor_. He shook his head. She'd been harboring ambitions since childhood, but Rory still couldn't see his spirited girlfriend in charge of anything remotely stuffy, and he knew The Doctor's duties to be full of paperwork. _Lev, too. We'd all suck being in charge_. He chuckled dryly to himself. _Not like we'd have to worry about any of that. _He stood up and faced his reflection in the fire. _Just…pass your classes, Rory. You don't want to flunk out now. _


	2. Assignments

Rose walked into the dining hall, uniform tidy, bag strap settled on her shoulder. It was never hard to find her friends. With Donna's red hair and Jack's blatant disregard of the uniform, they stood out like the autobiography section of the library. When she reached their table, almost on her toes from excitement, she found her friends in a heated discussion about the school's generosity.

"Sure, they gave us textbooks. It's nice of 'em. But they didn't give us the most important one." Jack took out a batted paperback from his shoulder bag. "_The Well-Kept Secret of the History Major_. The reason I'm even on this track." He beamed at the others.

"I was wondering why you'd want to look at books all day." Rose took the two hundred pages between her hands and examined the back. The white print shone against the dark blue backing, a photo of the author meeting her gaze between golden curls. "So what is this secret?"

"Time travel, baby. They're preparing us for a new age of magic—the lovechild of hard science and spellcasting."

"Or summoning," Tenna added, handing the book back to Jack. "It doesn't say which."

"But we're the best, aren't we?" Rose leaned into her hands. "Of course it would be our craft and not those Abandon fools." Donna took a bite of toast as the others gave their agreement. _It's not like they're trying to hurt you_, she reminded herself. _It's just school rivalry, plain and simple._

"Spot on, Rose Tyler. Let 'em fall into the past." Donna tackled her toast. They didn't mean it, it wasn't personal—but _Jack_. Jack too?

"C'mon, get your schedules out, everyone." "Everyone" meaning "Tenna," of course, but Jack and Donna got out their class list. Donna pressed hers to her lips. It was heavy paper, cream colored, the kind that would take more than a little wind to crease.

"Jack, what do you have first—"

"We've got classes together! Look at that." Rose leaned into Tenna's shoulder. "We have…battle applications! Ooh, nice." She shifted, grinning. "I get to destroy you."

"Oh yeah? Who's to say I won't smack you down first?" He grabbed her shoulders, and she pried him off, laughing.

"You guys are lucky," Donna piped up. "Jack and I, we're stuck in our departments alone."

"Yeah, you two. Show a little respect." He sipped from his cup of tea daintily before wincing and spitting it back out. "Ack. Raspberry."

"Like _you _ought to be talking, Mr. I-can-travel-through-time." Donna smacked him on the forehead. "And the only thing wrong with this tea is your taste buds." She took a sip to prove it, squeezing her eyes shut at the—admittedly—sour brew.

The owl on the clock hooted, signaling the end of breakfast.

"Guess we've gotta go. Walk me to class, time traveler?" Jack stuffed the book back into his bag reverently and took Donna's side. Tenna took a little longer. He stared at his schedule for a moment before sighing and joining Rose. She smoothed down his collar, resisting the urge to touch his chin.

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah. I guess I am." Rose started to reach for his hand, then thought better of it. He was lost in his thoughts, preparing for the class ahead. Already he was far away from her.

* * *

"Before we begin battle applications, we must administer the Assignments." The instructor paced around the room, his hands clasped behind his back as tightly as if they were in handcuffs. "Two of you have been deemed appropriate to receive the test." Rose's eyes lit up. She elbowed Tenna.

"It could be us!" She whispered, loudly enough to attract the smirks of their classmates. Their professor, oblivious to the rivalry sparking between the students, revealed two impossibly tiny scraps of paper.

"I will call the names." He waved one of the papers up with his finger. "Number one—" The sliver fluttered in front of Tenna's desk. "Tenna Matterfield."

Rose bounced in her seat. "That's right! Go…Tenna!" The surprised and overwhelmed candidate was sure Rose would've hugged him to bits had she let go of her manners. She clapped for him instead, her enthusiasm earning a few smiles from their less hostile classmates.

"Ahem. Number two—" The paper unfolded in front of a confident smirk and baby blue eyes. "Mr.—"

"Call me The Master, if you don't mind." He reclined in his chair, one ankle balanced on his knee. "It's my new title. Like it?" His voice has an insufferable twinge to it, simply oozing disrespect.

"Excuse me, Mr. Sanction, but you are applying for a different position."

"Master, Doctor, same difference if used correctly." He turned his pencil between his fingertips. Tenna was surprised he even bothered to bring supplies to school, the rich kid that he was. How he itched to turn that impractical blond hair to gray!

The instructor bristled at the accusation but chose to turn away and load the lesson on his screen. The other students, dismayed or breathless or a combination of both, turned to the displays on their desks and loaded the presentation.

"Six other candidates will be taking the assignment test," he said with a nod to Tenna. "Instructions are on your paper. It's charmed," he added, catching a curious stare from Rose. "Only _candidates_ will be able to read it." Rose sank back in her seat.

"Spoilsport." She crossed her arms with a huff. Tenna wished he'd be able to share the testing with her. It made him anxious, quite honestly, and Rose had a way of making all that disappear.

* * *

Lev linked his arms with Rory and Amy conspiratorially.

"They _said_ I wasn't supposed to tell anyone." He kissed Amy on the hand and flashed her a smile. "But how could I stop myself?"

"Stop flirting with my girlfriend, Lev." It seemed that no matter how long Rory stood by Amy, Lev had a way of getting in between them.

"But this is my special day! I'm the only possible Doctor." He spun and stood in front of his friends, head cocked, legs faltering.

"We can celebrate, but only if you leave Amy to me." He took her hand and gave her a concerned look. _I know_, she thought back. She bit her lip. _Lev as The Doctor. Honestly? _

"Fine, fine. Don't want her anyway. Need someone with a little more…power." He touched his fingers to his lips.

"Why do we even hang out with him again?" Rory whispered to Amy.

"Relax! He's just like this 'cause he ate one of those euphoria pellets after class." Rory shook his head.

"Let's hope he gets more competent before…"

"There will probably be a challenger." This didn't calm Rory at all, so she squeezed his hand. "There always is. Right?"

"Plotting against me already?" He waved away their excuses. "C'mon let's just go to the arcade. Do you play video games? I _love _video games." Rory glanced at Amy, panicked.

"Are you sure he took just one?"

"Maybe…four." Rory buried his face in his free hand.

"We won't be able to leave him all night."

"Hey, c'mon. Let's have fun." Amy shook her boyfriend's arm. "It's our first real date, OK?" Rory, blushing and more than a little pleased, found this quite acceptable.

"Now that's more like it!" Lev put his arms around his friends. "Let's celebrate like there aren't classes for a week!"

"Well…" Rory pointed at Amy. "We have classes tomorrow."

"Just _one _night. All I'm asking!" He pouted, and Rory sighed.

"Alright, Lev. It's your night." His face lit up. As bossy as he could be, Lev wouldn't want to spend a moment he didn't have to without his friends.

* * *

Martha Jones dialed a number on her refurbished phone and pressed it against her cheek. "The Assignments were administered today," she reported. "It looks like Abandon only has one contender. Is this what you were expecting?"

As usual, the voice on the other end gave no reply.


	3. Testing Procedures

Tenna squinted at his invitation. No one could doubt the magical prowess of the head professors, but neon green ink was a remarkably distasteful choice. Not only did it reflect the light into the reader's eye, it moved before the words made sense of themselves. He scoffed. Show-offs.

"Turn left, alright," he muttered to himself as he fumbled his way to the classroom. He opened the door to find a huge room, barely occupied by the desks and testing equipment set up in the corner. He sighed, a smile of relief breaking through his features. Tenna made an effort to stand taller—if he became The Doctor, this would be the day everyone looked back to.

"You're wearing the wrong uniform," came a shout across the table, and his confidence cracked. _Why couldn't they let it go for one, just one day? _"It's a little too…_fitting_." Tenna's mind raced around the words. "_Fitting" could mean "appropriate" in another context. He could be complementing you if you just take out the hate._ He clenched his fists and unwound them slowly, suddenly conscious of how he stood in the dead center of the room. He strode to an empty seat, as far away from the head seat as he could without appearing weak.

"Thank you for promptness, Mr. Sanction, Tenna. You will be administered the test as soon as the others arrive_._"

"It's Mr. Matterfield." The instructor turned to him warily. "It's my name. Can't you use it?" He didn't mean to sound pleading, only sure and commanding, but he was sick with worry over the test and he didn't deserve to be put below his rival. It was overwhelming, what with the verbal jabs at his gender and the presiding discomfort of the professor. None of this made him feel like fighting for his spot in the class. It just made him feel tired.

"I don't think any of us would feel comfortable with that, Tenna."

As the professor turned away, Tenna focused on his empty desk. He'd wanted to walk in here so…_ready_ for the pressure, but understanding discrimination and dealing with it were two different things. 

_"Tenna, you know what this means, right? People aren't going to like this."_

_"I can't help that, Dad!" He stood as firmly as he could. "It doesn't matter what the world thinks—I'm not a girl, OK?" His voice cracked. "All the prejudice in the world can't change me into one." _

"You will have one half hour to complete the written section of this test." The professor's voice cut through Tenna's memories. He gave the room a quick glance and noticed three other students of various bloodlines slouched in their seats. Their uniforms were clean, their hands folded neatly, but Tenna could sense their squeamishness. Despite the grooming their posh lives provided, they didn't feel ready, Tenna realized.

"Put your name on the top of your exam tablet and choose two essay questions from the fifteen provided. Your time starts in two minutes." A tablet materialized on his desk and he stared at the countdown, tracing the blinking colon idly. One look at the questions gave him back some of his old confidence. They were incredibly basic, insulting almost. Just beginner's history and the most simplistic of techniques. Tenna chose the most complicated questions he could answer thoroughly—he considered himself a bit of an expert in the evolution of raw energy—and wrote his name on the corner of the answer sheet.

Mr. Matterfield, he wrote and underlined before he could think about the possible consequences. _If that's all it takes to get you kicked out, it's better that you get out now_, he reminded himself firmly. _You'd be sucking up your entire life. _

When it came time for the demonstration, Tenna stretched and avoided looking at his competitors. He pushed his thumb against the joints of his right hand. He hadn't practiced conjuring in two days in order to let his energy recharge, but judging by the peaked gazes and half-moon circles on his competitors' faces, he was he only one in the room who had done so. He ran his fingers over the lines on his right hand. His energy was ready, nearly bursting out of his skin. Tenna clamped down on his anticipation in fear of releasing a flare before he was called.

"Students, today you will be conjuring raw energy." _Duh, prof, you haven't exactly taught us any spells yet._ "Please place your casting hand face up." He did as asked, and the professor walked along the line, checking each hand for enhancement jewelry. Not only were these dishonest, they were made by students of the Abandon school—it was pure betrayal to equip one of them.

Tenna winced at his own bigotry. The world _needed _enchanters, and as far as the alternate schools were, Abandon was one of the best. There was some deep-seated disdain that came with the name around here, though. Tenna really hadn't gotten the chance to think about it, and now wasn't the time.

He watched the students struggle to conjure their energy and pegged them as lineage candidates. They flocked to opportunities, but where they were rich in money they lacked in talent. But some of them always made it through. It was standard, around here, to consider a student's linage as important as their grades.

Tenna glanced at his rival. He procured small blue flames on his palm lazily as his competitors struggled to match. _Show off. _Tenna shook it off. Let him waste his energy—he'd be all worn out by the time he was called, and _he _would have the stronger showcase.

"Tenna, your turn."

He widened his stance and took in some air. Closing his eyes and reaching for his reserves, Tenna honed half of his magical energy and let it rupture through the conjure point on his palm. His flare reached about a foot high, and the professor made an encouraging nod, about to bend over his clipboard to mark down the score.

"Oh, I'm done yet," he muttered, with a sideways glance at his rival. His face was a little slack, and Tenna gave him a smirk. Reaching for the rest of the energy, he conjured two purple and gold braids and set them to rotate around his flare.

His proctor nodded. _School colors, _Tenna thought. _Always does the charm._ Tenna wrapped his mind around his confidence. He needed it now—shutting down was always the hardest part for him. He clenched his teeth and let go of his energy. Inch by inch, the flare turned to vapor in his palm and dissipated. The braids took longer than he would've liked, but they vanished without incident.

"Strong display, clean take down, even if it was a little slow," the professor told him as he folded his score report. "This makes you our top contender." He paused in his sentence before walking away, unsure of using Tenna's masculine title was worth the risk, but Tenna wasn't going to let this get in the way of his victory. A smug warmth spread through his hands as he watched his rival try to match his skills—and summon blue and black colors instead. His face went white as he struggled to take down his mistake, but everyone saw it. The Abandon stripes were plainly woven around his flare.

He took down the conjure more efficiently than Tenna, but the mistake was unforgivable. There was the matter of blood—and gender—to consider, and Tenna didn't want to get his hopes up, but it looked as if he would start the year as the head of his class.

* * *

Jack collapsed on his bed. The first day of classes had been a whirlwind of syllabi, questionnaires and assigned reading. Opting instead to ignore his looming due dates, Jack took out the book that had gotten him into his major and flipped to the inside cover. Jack rolled over, holding the book to the light. The dappled shadow of the window blinds fell onto the paper, and he caught sight of a note.

_"Meet me in the courtyard at eight tonight. –R" _

He squinted at the handwriting. While it shimmered with the residue of a remote cast, the message was set. It wasn't meant to change, and it wasn't meant to go to anyone else.

He stood up unconsciously, the springs squawking in his wake. Someone knew enough about him to know he'd grab this book—or what it just the aftereffects of a spell? He shook it off. The handwriting was cute, and the curve on the single initial was certainly promising. He settled back onto his bed, cross-legged. Before he left, he'd need a plan, a backpack of supplies, and a few dabs of cologne. Just in case.


End file.
